Why Canadian angels shouldn't have hockey sticks
by Black-Cat-In-Boots
Summary: Lovino hadn't really wanted to go. But Matthew blackmailed him. Super short story thing about Matthew and Lovino and hockey and did I mention they're angels? Wingtalia! Implied Spamano and Prucan.


**A/N: Hey guys! This is a super short little story thing I made for some fanart I had because, well, who doesn't love Lovino and Matthew bonding time? Especially if they're angels! On a side note, this isn't part of Broken Wings, Healed Hearts. It's just a random angel thing. Enjoy! **

**The link is here :/ thegargoylealchemist .deviantart art/ A-slight-addiction-386768568**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

He really hadn't wanted to go. But Matthew, that sly bastard, had his ways of convincing people. You think that little fucker is innocent? With his wide purple eyes and little glasses? Hell, half of the time people don't even notice him. He's just that quiet little Canadian in the back of the room.

Well, take it from Lovino (and he knew what he was talking about, being said Canadian's best friend), he is not so innocent.

In fact, it was because of his devious nature that Lovino found himself sitting on the admittedly comfortable, cream colored couch in his favorite sweatshirt (since Matthew always had his room so damn cold), sitting next to a crazed hockey fan.

"I hate you," Lovino repeated for the tenth time that hour as he crossed his arms with a pout, glaring at the screen of the blonde's T.V. "I can't believe you threatened to tell Antonio I was ticklish." Yes, that had been the little blonde demon's blackmail. Telling Antonio, Lovino's boyfriend, that the Italian was extremely ticklish. Of course, Lovino couldn't have Antonio knowing this, so he agreed to coming to Matthew's to watch a hockey game with Matthew's favorite team- the Toronto Maple Leafs.

It wasn't that Lovino didn't like watching T.V. with Matthew, or that he didn't like spending time with the other in general. No, he actually liked spending time with the normally quiet blonde. It was just that, well, when watching hockey Matthew acted quite different.

Quite different indeed.

"Oh, come on. I needed to get you here someway," Matthew replied easily with a grin. He was decked out in his Maple Leafs jersey, hockey stick clutched in his hand. A popcorn bowl was laying on the ground, forgotten, with a few kernels left. The two had just finished watching the announcers go over the Maple Leafs' season, playing videos of their best scores and saves, as well as their almost but not quite wins and devastating losses. Matthew was hooked, wings flapping excitedly. Lovino wanted more popcorn.

Lovino made a face at him, shaking his head. "Couldn't you ask Gilbert or some shit?" He asked in annoyance as Matthew adjusted some of the tape on his stick. The Canadian's wings were still flapping excitedly, the white feathers nearly brushing against Lovino's face. Lovino would've wanted to let his wings out, too, but he was too cold and needed to keep them folded against his shoulder blades to conserve warmth.

At the question, Matthew shook his head. Gilbert was his boyfriend, and as much as he loved spending time with the crazy albino angel, he was determined to keep watching the Maple Leafs versus the Canucks a tradition between him and Lovino. As much as Lovino whined and complained, he never tried to leave once he got there.

"Come on. It won't take as long as the last game, I promise!" Matthew said as he finished adjusting the tape and swung the stick around experimentally to see if the tape would slip off again. Unfortunately, by doing this he forced Lovino to duck or the Italian would be flying crooked for a month due to a whack in the head.

As for the last game, he was referring to last year when the game had gone into over time, followed by an intense shoot off that found a certain Canadian sitting two inches from the screen and an irritated Italian lounging on the couch, half asleep with a bowl of popcorn covered in maple syrup (don't ask) on his lap.

The Italian angel heaved a sigh, playing with the ends of his sweatshirt. "I really don't have a choice, do I?" he asked as he watched Matthew shake his head and smile.

"Nope. None at all."

By the end of the night, Matthew had lost his voice, made a new crack in the screen, and whacked Lovino in the head. Three times.

But guess what, you little lucky bastards? (And if you're wondering why you're lucky, it's because your asses weren't there.)

The Maple Leafs won.


End file.
